


A Soul to Take

by pan_dora



Series: Justifiable [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, Haunted Places, Hauntings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mentions of Suicide, Spirits, Steo, Supernatural Creatures, Supernatural Elements, canon divergence - post season 5b, theo/stiles - Freeform, urban legend, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: After Liam had played Bloody Mary, Stiles thought he'd made a point that messing with ghosts was off limits. He didn't expect Mason to come along and stomp all over his not-yet-existing weekend plans. Despite his doubts, he agreed to see how much truth was in the research the human had done.Stiles anticipated a calm and uneventful weekend.He was wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The outline for this story has been sitting in my folder forever. Finally, I have a purpose for it! 
> 
> Also, since this story will take place at the Colorado Street Bridge, there will be mentions of suicide throughout this story. If you feel uncomfortable reading about it, I would like to give you a warning here and the chance to turn around. :)

> “...And you, you better run because i'm going to destroy you for what you've taken from me.”   
>  ― Samantha Young, Blood Will Tell

 

“What do you want?”

Stiles tilted his head first left, then right. Thinking. “Food,” he offered then grinning. His mood couldn’t be better right now. They were on a date. They finally managed to get on a fucking date. Seriously. After everything that had happened, he’d never thought the two of them would actually get their shit together, jump in a car and drive out to see the movies. With Lydia and Kira still gone until after the weekend, they even had the loft to themselves – and Stiles fully intended on exploiting that.

Theo rolled his eyes. “That narrows it down.” But even he couldn’t really be frustrated.  

Stiles grinned at him. “Surprise me.”

“Did you really have to pull an all-nighter the night before we decided to go out?” Theo asked frowning slightly.  

Stiles flicked his forehead. “I had deadlines and a concussion,” he reminded him then with a raised brow. “If I hadn’t done that, I would be sitting in front of my laptop instead of going to the most cliché date to ever cliché.”

“It was your idea.”

“I never said I don’t like clichés,” Stiles pointed out turning slightly in the passenger’s seat. Theo didn’t look angry just a little unconvinced – he had seen him yawning and very likely noticed that there was an abundance of coffee in the last seven hours.  

Theo scrutinised his face. “You’ll fall asleep halfway through the movie.”

“I'd never fall asleep during a good old Friday the 13th movie,” Stiles replied appalled. Seriously. What kind of man did Theo think he was?

Theo raised his brows. Then he shook his head. “Just don’t drool on my jacket,” he said decidedly.

“You think I'd cuddle with you having that negative attitude?” He shook his head and pressed a hand to his chest feigning to be deeply hurt. But as Theo scoffed, Stiles grinned. “Also, if you don’t buy us food, we'll never going to make it to the movie in time anyway.”

“You know,” Theo drawled, “if you told me what you want to eat, we could have had food five minutes ago.” Well. Of course. The only problem with that would be that Stiles was terrible in making decisions in this particular area. People hated ordering food or going to the restaurant with him because Stiles would usually take _ages_ to choose what to eat. It didn’t really help that the range had gotten grander the last couple years. All these goddamn vegetarians who just wanted to go with the flow – they made everything more complicated for him.

Stiles flashed another grin at Theo. “Demonstrate how well you know me.” His indecisiveness wouldn’t help them get to the movie in time. They were already late. He really didn’t want to miss it; especially since he didn’t know whether they could get in still. The owner was a prick.

“I’m not going to buy you curly fries,” Theo replied shoving his phone basically in Stiles’ face; menu still opened. “Your eating habits are terrible which is surprising considering how you treat your dad.”

Stiles took the phone reluctantly. “I'm young and healthy.”

“Right,” Theo drawled tapping the back of his phone. “If you want curly fries, pay for yourself.”

Great. Just _great_. “What are you eating?” Maybe he could get some inspiration if he wasn’t allowed to eat curly fries. Well, technically he was but _still_. Theo insisted on paying to make this feel like an actual date. So, in the end, he could decide what to pay for. Although it was rude.

Theo smirked. “A burger and French fries.”

“And how is that fair?”

“Supernatural metabolism.”

Stiles pouted. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

Theo barked out a laugh. Maybe it was just because he finally had the shot at an actual date with his actual boyfriend that caused him to grin stupidly. But, goddamn, hearing him laugh felt so amazing. “No, Wilma,” Theo crooned, “You look beautiful.” Stiles pinched his side in retaliation. Theo flinched and grabbed his hand. The guy was ticklish – and Stiles would exploit every second of it. “But I will not encourage your terrible eating habits.”

“Ugh, fine.” Stiles scanned the menu for the first vegetarian dish that would come across. “Would the fine Sir agree to buy me a burrito?”

Theo raised his brow. “That all?”

“I fully intend to steal your fries.”

“You can try.”

 

Theo chucked his jacket off and threw it over the chair. “Hm,” he stated flopping onto the couch and kicked his legs up, “Still think that movie sucked.”

“Excuse you?” Stiles couldn’t believe his ears. What is it with the people he surrounds himself with and their terrible sentiment in cinematic masterpieces? Was Jordan really the only one who had an eye for what’s good? “That movie is a classic,” he insisted but Theo only grinned. “It’s art.”

“Slow down there,” Theo chimed raising a finger, “Star Wars is art.” Point. They could all agree that the franchise was part of every good educational background. “But that was one step above cesspit.”

Stiles pressed a hand over his heart pretending to faint as he dropped on the couch next to Theo. “I can’t believe I’m dating a philistine.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Theo wrapped his arms around Stiles almost immediately, pressing his lips behind the shell of Stiles’ ear. Although still grumpy about not being allowed at his throat, he'd quickly found alternatives – and he was worryingly unerring.

Stiles closed his eyes. “These classics are essential. I will not make the same mistake with you that I did with Scott.”

Theo scoffed. “I don’t think you can show me a movie I haven’t watched that is considered a classic.” That was definitively a challenge Stiles would accept. Maybe they could make a bet around it – but he was going to go into detail on that later. There were more urgent matters at hand right now.

Like Theo.

Yesterday, they had gotten rid of that fucking skinwalker and Stiles had promised himself that they would have a date and everything that went along with it. That’s why he'd written his essay in record time, even if it meant pulling an all-nighter. But tonight and tomorrow would just – or at least mostly – be Theo and him.

Stiles turned his head just the smallest bit to press his lips on Theo’s, who hummed in agreement and returned the kiss. Goosebumps chased Theo’s fingertips as he snuck a hand under Stiles’ shirt. They pressed against each other, surprisingly without urgency. It was just lazy kisses and slow hands, exploring and mapping each other’s bodies. They had all the time in the world and they would use it. Stiles was aware of everywhere Theo touched him, from his lips to his knee against his thigh, the hand on his neck and the curious fingers travelling down his spine, over his ribs.

Theo pulled away as his thumb brushed the edge of the scar on Stiles’ stomach. It was the ghost of a touch, as he traced it with his index finger, not looking away while doing so. He quirked his eyebrow, searching for an answer to a question he hadn't asked yet.

“It’s my story,” Stiles said into the silence. Scars didn’t mean anything to Theo. He healed. Always. Since he had been turned into a chimera, at least. A part of his humanity had been stripped away that day – what it meant to endure, not emotionally but physically. Stiles doubted Theo would break under torture. It was different for Stiles. He would never get rid of his scars, not even the one he had gotten from Donovan. He survived that, he suffered through it – and maybe he still had nightmares about it. But at least he could look in the mirror and remind himself to be proud. Because he was strong in his own sense.

Theo bit his bottom lip, eyes locked on the place where his finger rested against Stiles scar still. Maybe Theo didn’t understand yet. He would. Eventually. But for now, they would leave this conversation, postpone it to a moment in their future when neither of them was a broken boy.

“If you’re going to sit there like that, I’ll make you watch the whole Friday the 13th series,” Stiles threatened trying to crack the odd shadow that cocooned them. “Even the weird ones.”

Theo flicked his gaze upwards again. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

The mood was broken. With a smirk, Theo tackled Stiles and nailed him to the sofa but before they could continue what they had started, a knock echoed through the silence.

Stiles blinked. “Please, tell me you bumped against the coffee table.”

“I did not.”

Another knock, this time clearly coming from the door of the loft, proved that he told the truth. Stiles groaned audibly. “This cockblocking was all fun and games but I’m getting severely pissed right now,” he muttered pressing a kiss on Theo’s lips again before sitting up fully. “If this isn’t an emergency,” Stiles called out, a clear warning in his stone, “I will throw you off a cliff.” Seriously. Date night. Okay. Nobody _knew_ per se, that Theo and Stiles had a date night tonight – aside from Lydia who had originally come up with them going to a drive-in theatre. But it’s a quarter past ten; meaning, not a time you usually visit someone on a weeknight.

Stiles and Theo both sit up as the door slides open. Every member of the pack had a key but those who did not live here had at least the decency to announce their visit _or_ knocked and waited for a reply before entering. Which was very well-behaved. Liam, upon entering behind his best friend, appeared to be considerably concerned. He closed the door behind him, tiptoeing after Mason and fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

“Isn’t it way past your bedtime?” Theo asked shuffling around until he could comfortably use Stiles’ thigh as a pillow.

“ _Ha_ _ha_.”

“This is important!” Mason said in lieu of a greeting.

Stiles raised a brow. “Well, it better be. Or I’ll tell Brett you-“ he pointed at Liam- “want to screw his sister.”

“ _Mason_ ,” Liam squeaked, “I told you we should have done this tomorrow.”

This didn’t exactly bode well for the two of them. But Mason chose to ignore the fool mood and to tackle the subject. Good choice, since it was too late anyway. Stiles was already pissed and Theo didn’t appear to be pleased with the whole situation either. “I think I have stumbled upon a case,” Mason said decisively. He kneaded his hands, then crossed his arms over his chest.

“Did you now?” Theo jeered.

Stiles flicked his ear. “What case?”

“There was a death.”

“Do I have to worm every bit of information out of you?” Stiles asked cocking his head slightly to the side. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for twenty questions; which Mason should be aware of.

Liam pulled a face scratching the back of his head.

Mason cleared his throat. “Yeah, I mean no.” He glanced at his best friend, who pulled his shoulders up in the slowest shrug this side of the universe. Either Liam wasn’t exactly convinced about whatever case Mason might have dug up or he was simply uncomfortable – or maybe a little bit of both. “There was this guy. Not far from here, actually.” Stiles drew his eyebrows in. This hemming and hawing didn’t exactly help his presenting a proper case. “He fell of a bridge.”

“He _fell_ of a bridge?” Theo echoed incredulously. “Oh dear. Let’s send the cavalry.”

Stiles only raised a brow. “Did he fall or did he jump?”

“He was persuaded to jump?” Mason tried.

Liam covered his face with his hands.

“The bridge you’re talking about isn’t, by any chance, the Colorado Street Bridge?”

Mason opened and closed his mouth. “What if it were?” He asked slowly.

“Seriously?” Stiles deadpanned. The guy didn’t really have the nerve to come here, late in the evening on a weekday when he _knew_ that Theo and Stiles had the loft to themselves, to tell him another person had commited suicide. While that was a tragedy, it had nothing to do with what they were doing.

Theo looked up at Stiles. “What’s with that bridge?”

“You don’t know?” Mason sounded terribly excited; in fact, he sat down on the coffee table. He was positively _glowing_ with enthusiasm. “It’s a haunted bridge in Pasadena.”

“Supposedly haunted,” Stiles interrupted.

“Dude,” Liam chimed in, “You believe in Bloody Mary. How’s a haunted bridge off the charts?”

While he had a point, Stiles had trouble getting on terms with the whole Suicide Bridge folklore. Of course, he knew everything about it because he had been interested in the paranormal and supernatural world since he’d been a kid. But somehow, all these haunted places and buildings were a hoax to him. All these rumours, all these sightings and recordings, yet, nothing was actual proof. Everyone pointed the camera in a different direction when they ‘saw' something, how perfect for their story. That way people got scared at shadows and noises and tricks of light. He was aware ghosts existed, as well as probably every other nightmare roaming around – but haunted places? Ghosts only playing games with those who sought them out? Come on, man. Those were cock-and-bull stories to make a town more interesting to tourists. “I just don’t see the point in ghosts being jerks.”

“That’s no argument,” Mason shot back indignant.

Stiles admired his intractability. That was a good thing, especially in the world they were living in. “I just can’t see why ghosts would be dicking with people in the dark. I mean, we saw what they were capable off and now I’m to believe that they wander around aimlessly?” He shrugged. That’s just so weird. Most of the ghosts in these haunted places where much, _much_ older than the one they had fought, so shouldn’t they be stronger? And still they did nothing but flicker in and out of existence. Right.

Theo sat up. “You mean ghosts need a purpose?”

“I’m just saying that I have a hard time believing ghosts wait for someone to come along so they could scare their pants off.”

Mason cleared his throat. “I knew you’d make that argument, so I did some research and came up with a theory.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. He wasn’t opposed to believe that places where haunted. If someone were to give him a proper explanation or reason or whatever, he sure wouldn’t be doubting this so much. “Shoot,” he said leaning forward.

“Okay, hear me out.” Mason glanced at Liam for a moment, who looked at his best friend in astonishment. “We have apparitions, ghosts and spirits, right? I mean, apparitions are simple manifestations. Like, often they appear to relive their death. Or at least, that’s what is told most of the time.” True. Apparitions were pretty powerless and nothing more than an echo of a tragic death. “So, what if there is a difference between ghosts and spirits, too? Maybe, maybe- spirits are the ones with malicious intent and ghosts are not?”

Stiles raised a brow.

“ _Or_ ,” Liam piped up, “or ghosts are those who haunt places and spirits are the ones who are actually capable of doing harm.”

“That-“ Stiles replied pointing at Liam- “is more plausible. So, you're saying what we fought was a spirit.” Liam nodded patting Mason's shoulder. “Okay, I accept that.” After everything he had witnessed since Scott had been bitten, he honestly didn’t need much to be convinced of another supernatural creature. Call him gullible, but a stitch in time saved nine. So, there’s that.

“Still don’t see why that’s a case for us,” Theo remarked with an odd tone to his voice.

“Mason hints at the guy who had toppled over the bridge and died in the quick drying concrete,” Stiles explained leaning against the backrest, fingers massaging his left temple. “Allegedly, he calls out to people and lures them to their death. But there’s no evidence for that because nobody who lives has heard that voice.”

“Where does the rumour come from then?” Liam asked.

“From friends and family who couldn’t explain why their loved ones took their own life,” Stiles answered, “It’s easier to accept something killed them.” He noticed how Mason’s enthusiasm shrivelled to the size of a rotten tomato. “ _But_ if you really believe something's going on, we can check it out.”

“Really?”

Stiles sighed. _A stitch in time saved nine_. “Really.”

 

“We have a pool.” Liam sounded truly and utterly dumbstruck.

“Oh, _that’s_ what strikes you as odd?” Isaac shot back, “Have you seen the _size_ of this house? It’s a fucking mansion.”

Stiles dropped his backpack on one of the deck chairs. Theo stood by his side, crossing his arms and looking at him like he tried to answer a question that had never been asked. Well, they all knew Stiles had booked their accommodation for the weekend. He didn’t want another fucking motel – to his defence, the house didn’t look that big on the pictures. But since they were staying here for two nights and two days, he thought that maybe it would be nice for them to have a little space; which translated to a pool and at least two bedrooms. They ended up with three.

“Did you pay for this?” Mason asked turning to look at Stiles.

Theo scoffed. “No, he got it as a late birthday present.”

“Yes, I paid for it. Up front. It wasn’t as expensive at it seems.” Stiles pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. It wasn’t really that he felt uncomfortable about the whole situation, he just never thought he would get into it in the first place.

Isaac blinked. “With _what_ money?”

“Funny, that now you ask how I pay for everything,” Stiles replied raising a brow, “Did nobody _ever_ wonder how a couple of college students would be able to buy a house big enough for at least seven people? Or who paid for the motel we stayed in during our first case? Or _how_ we would finance our travels to help people in the first place?” Lydia and her mother weren’t exactly poor but while they were able to afford a lot of things, even they couldn’t just squeeze out enough money to afford a new house or their travels. Theo, who had inherited a good amount of money from his real parents as well, wouldn’t be able to do that either.

Mason tilted his head. “I thought you got paid.”

“Well, we got five-hundred dollars the sheriff took out of his own pocket,” Isaac mentioned scrutinizing Stiles sceptically now. “We can’t really expect that to happen every time.”

“So, how _can_ we afford that?” Theo asked.

Stiles crouched down to open his backpack. Hidden in the inner pocket, he kept an envelope with a letter and a bankcard. He had never touched it other than paying the debts his father had been in due to his short stay in Eichen and his mother’s hospital bills and paid back the mortgage on his childhood home. After that, he had put it away and contemplated what to do with it. He never wanted the money, never really needed it. But Lydia and he had a very long talk about using it for what they were doing; saving people and all. It was an ungrateful job. They had to act in shadows and wouldn’t meet many people like O’Donovan. But they needed money for their flights, for the places they stayed at.

“Here.” He threw the envelope to Isaac, who caught it with raised brows.

As the werewolf spotted the handwriting, his eyes widened in surprise. “What the ever-loving fuck?” He asked.

“Read it.”

Theo frowned watching as Isaac opened the envelope and pulled the letter out of it, then he threw it back to Stiles, completely ignoring the bankcard. “Out loud?” Isaac asked to which Stiles only shrugged. Whatever. The others would learn of it eventually. They had to. Isaac cleared his throat. “ _I’m sorry for dragging you into everything. I’m sorry for ruining your life._ _I’m not sorry for leaving. It was the least I could do to keep you from further harm. I would have liked to tell you all this in person but I know you are too stubborn to accept it. I owe you my life, Stiles, and more – I owe you my sanity. You taught me so much in so little time. I won’t forget that, and I have to thank you for it. The card gives you access to your new bank account; on it, you’ll find the money my uncle offered as a reward for killing me. I figured you deserve it for keeping my ass alive, for saving my pack and my family. I wish you only the best. God knows, you deserve it._ ” Isaac glanced up but Stiles turned away from him. “ _Derek_ ,” he ended the letter with a sullen voice.

As he had first read that letter, Stiles had felt like the world around him had been separated through a wall of invisible cotton. It topped and toppled, shoved a picture out of a frame Stiles had hung up high on a wall. This couldn’t have hurt any more if Derek had insulted him. Because this letter had been goodbye; the worst kind of goodbye because it didn’t only imply forever. It meant forever. His first action, after Lydia had finally given him this letter, had been grabbing his phone and trying to reach him. But he had to find out that Derek’s phone number didn’t exist any longer.

 _This miserable, pathetic, self-loathing idiot_ – that’s what he had called Derek before smashing his phone on the wall of their apartment.

“Not to sound _crude_ or anything,” Mason said slowly – he knew about the Derek-and-Stiles tragedy from hearsay, “but how much money did his uncle-“

“Fifteen million dollar,” Liam interrupted.

Isaac stared at him. “Fifteen _million_?” It was unclear whether he’s more shocked about Peter paying this much money for his nephew’s early demise or Stiles owning the amount now. Both was a shocking revelation; especially since Peter had come to his senses and actually _cared_ about his family, as well as the pack Derek had created.

“So,” Mason muttered in utter confusion, “You are a multimillionaire and steal scholarships from poor people?”

“Lydia gave me the envelope in January,” Stiles replied, not angry just a little exhausted, “I didn’t know it existed until after I already had the scholarship – and I never wanted to use the money. In fact, I thought about anonymously donating every cent of it.”

Liam crossed his arms. “But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” Stiles nodded. “Lydia and I talked a lot about what I should do with it – especially after we decided to stay here. We chose to use it for the expenses of our cases and to buy a house. Otherwise, I won’t touch the money.”

Theo was silent during all of it. Understandably. It’s a very serious and sensitive topic. Stiles never made a secret out of Derek and what he had felt for him – what they had meant to each other. But that was part of the past and as the two locked eyes, Theo offered him a tentative smile. It was progress. Lots and lots of progress. Talking about _ex-somethings_ was under normal circumstances already awkward and terrible enough.

“Reasonable,” Mason agreed. Liam nodded turning towards the pool again. It was late at night but Stiles got the feeling he really wanted to go for a swim. Well, if Kira and Lydia got lucky next week, they might be getting a big enough house at the edge of the preserve with their own swimming pool.

Isaac shook his head. “That lad...” But whatever he intended to say would remain a mystery.

“Typical Derek,” Stiles agreed anyway. “Whatever. Makes our job a hell of a lot easier.” For a moment, Theo looked at him funny, probably wondering if he meant what he said. “And right now, we have the greatest view over Pasadena, a pool and Liam, who is in for a treat.”

“What?” Liam asked but Stiles had already crossed the distance and pushed the beta into the pool. He flailed about, desperate to get his balance back. It was a lost cause. With a squeal, he went under. Water splashed everywhere, hitting Stiles’ legs.

Isaac, Theo and Mason joined him at the edge of the pool, laughing, as Liam came to the surface again. “What was that for?” He huffed.

Stiles crouched down. “For playing Bloody Mary and giving me the scare of a lifetime.”

Liam looked at him almost sheepishly. “That's fair.”

“It is.”

“You know what’s also fair?”

“What?”

Liam grabbed a fistful of Stiles’ sweater. _Asshole._ With a shit-eating grin, he yanked him into the pool.

Stiles probably deserved that.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why are we doing illegal things in the daytime?” Mason asked glancing over his shoulder. If he was paranoid already, he would love the rest of the shit they had to do to get where they wanted to.

“Because if we do stuff like that, we do it the hard way,” Stiles replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the many _no trespassing_ signs. Yeah. If they got caught, worst case scenario, they would go to jail for 6 months and pay a 1000$ fine each. Well, it was Mason’s idea but sadly they couldn’t exactly foist off everything on him. They were old enough to make their very own decisions – okay, perhaps Liam was amenable to influence; especially when attractive girls were in the picture. Case in point: The Bloody Mary disaster and the weird chic that was actively trying to woo Isaac now. The poor guy was mildly horrified. Stiles hadn’t met her yet but apparently, she had been to the restaurant in which Isaac worked as a temp a couple of times now.

“So,” Theo asked coming to a halt in the short underpass where they were mostly hidden from view, “what’s the tale here?”

Mason had waited for this moment since the second Stiles had agreed to check it out considering that they were in Pasadena anyway. He really hadn’t been up to the discussion and wild arguments Mason most likely would have come up with. To be honest, he’d hoped they would decide against it after hearing that they had to do it while it was still light out and that it was illegal. Not so much luck. Now to get through this bullshit, so they could visit the Colorado Street Bridge tonight. Of course, as the alpha, he should be the voice of reason and put a stop to doing illegal shit – but he had scaled abandoned houses as a kid, who was he to judge? Also, he had accepted the ghost theory Mason had dished him Tuesday evening but at the gates to Hell, even he drew the line. That thing was a flood control tunnel and nothing more.

“Okay,” Mason cleared his throat. Stiles and Isaac both turned around to face him. “We’re at the Devil’s Gate in Pasadena, California.”

“No shit,” Theo said in mock-surprise.

Liam glared at him. But Stiles understood where his boyfriend – even if insolent – was coming from. First of all, they had all seen the goddamn sign, secondly, they _knew_ they were in Pasadena. They didn’t need a Power-Point presentation. This was supposed to be a quick dump of information so everyone had the same level of knowledge. Stiles didn’t want to picnic here. If someone saw them lounging around the underpass, they would call the fucking cops on them because they would know _exactly_ what they were up to.

Mason, completely unfazed by the interruption, continued, “People say there is a strong spiritual connection to this place. The Tongva believed that the Arroyo Seco flowing through the gorge sounded like laughter which they then attributed to the coyote spirit.”

“This is why I hate coyotes,” Stiles muttered.

Theo looked up, appalled. “ _Hey_.”

Isaac seemed to suffocate while he was trying to hold in his laughter.

Liam sent a shit-eating grin in Theo’s direction before turning the attention back to his best friend. “So, the rumours stuck and people think it’s still haunted?”

Mason nodded.

“ _No_.” Stiles shook his head. Really, did he have to give the _do your research properly or your going to die a terrible death_ speech again? Because he didn’t want to. “Mason, you need to go all in when looking shit up on the internet.” Especially the internet. There was so much bullshit written there that Stiles had thought about throwing his laptop out of the window occasionally. “Upon hearing the aforementioned rumours,” Stiles continued because Mason wasn’t wrong, he simply forgot the important part, “a group of occultists went looking for this place in the 1940s and attempted rituals which were supposed to open the portal to Hell.” Hence the name. It took a lot of self-deprecation for a city to not only name a flood control tunnel after a formation of rocks, which might or might not look like Satan's head, but also the occultist and somewhat darkish history. So, Pasadena, good on you. “In fact, they tried to create a so-called _moonchild_ – basically a demonized foetus which was supposed to be some sort of Antichrist. Some weird shit. Anyway, couple years later, in the 1950, if I recall correctly, children went missing. Thing is, the younger and more innocent the body with which such a demon is caught, the better and stronger the moonchild will be. Also, Jack Parsons and his friend Lafayette Ronald Hubbard followed the ideas of Aleister Crowley and thought their Babalon Working was successful and that they called the Scarlet Woman to this earth – her story originates from The Whore of Babylon, by the way.” Liam blinked. Stiles had probably already lost him. “Some whackos believe these rituals had actually opened a portal to Hell here. _That’s_ why this place is still believed haunted – because this story is a magnet for occultists and those who are interested in paranormal investigation. The more people, the more coloured the stories about what’s happening here at night become.” It’s the Chinese whispers principle. That always ended in lies as well because people heard what they wanted to hear – same thing with believes. “And then there’s the crackheads living down there.”

Theo stared at him. “Okay, Encyclopaedia Obscura, tone it down a bit, would ya?”

“I can’t believe you get laid on a regular basis,” Isaac stated shaking his head in disbelieve.

Well, he _could_ potentially get laid on a regular basis. Sadly enough, people tended to chose to interrupt him every goddamn time – as if they sensed it. Even his dad was in on it. Although his father didn’t officially now about his newest relationship. Stiles wasn’t quite sure how to tell him. He had to, eventually. It would be a terrible encounter.

“Can we go now?” Theo asked, “There is a storm coming and I don’t wanna be down there when this shit’s overflowing.” As if to underline his words, thunder rolled in the distance. Yes, they did stupid shit the hard way. Why was he here again? Because he was to lazy to deal with Mason?

 _Bad alpha_.

Isaac sighed. “Let’s go.” Although he rushed forward first, Stiles still doubted he was very happy about being here.

The fence rattled under him as Stiles was given a leg-up and he swung himself over the edge of the fence. He landed on surprisingly steady feet – all these hours during his childhood scaling abandoned houses as well as his own and Scott’s had to turn out to be useful one day. Winking at his surprised pack, he crouched down behind a couple of bushes. They would be on the silver platter for long enough. “Come on over.”

Liam jumped the fence easily, helping Mason as he attempted the climb rather ungracefully. Isaac pushed from the other side while Theo was rolling his eyes. Yeah. They were taking a lot of time doing this – and the highway wasn’t that far away. People could see them. Seriously. They had been careful in their own hometown and checked out an abandoned warehouse and here they were trespassing in bright fucking daylight. If they were to do this one more time, Stiles would make sure all of them could climb a fence quickly.

As the rest joined him crouching behind the bushes, Theo looked at Stiles. “What now?”

Mason huffed and crossed his arms, obviously irked by the fact that he wasn’t asked for directions. Stiles was aware that Theo asking him hadn’t anything to do with being the alpha; that much was obvious. “There are stairs, then ladders,” he explained pointing in the direction they had to go in, “Everything in perfect view of the highway.”

“Sounds like the perfect time to piggyback,” Isaac noted with raised brows.

“What?” Mason asked.

Theo tilted his head. “Sounds like a plan. We’re way faster.”

Stiles didn’t like that plan. Not at all. A little less because of being reduced to their human capabilities but the fact that it would hurt his pride. Again. His poor ego still hadn’t completely recovered from Brett carrying his ass around while they had been chased by the skinwalker. But he knew that they would be at the ladder within a matter of seconds which would lessen the risk of them being seen and caught. This was one of these ‘ _you don’t have to like it’_ moments, wasn’t it? With a sigh, he nodded. Again, he would prefer to be out of here as quickly as possible. Playing around here was dangerous. They never knew who they could potentially meet – or when the dam was opened since it was randomized.

“What do you say,” Theo said smirking, “Bridal style?”

“You just lost your privilege to carry me,” Stiles decided, turning to a cackling Isaac. After Kira and Brett, who Theo reluctantly started to like after taking the kill away from him – even though it was ‘just’ a skinwalker, they both appreciated the gesture – it seemed like he wouldn’t begin to warm up to Isaac. Maybe that’s why Stiles tried to tease Theo with him a little; after all he needed to come around eventually _and_ accept that there wouldn’t be a change in his behaviour towards his friends whether or not Theo saw them as a threat. Additionally, to being someone who he would likely be jealous of, Isaac also didn’t go easy on the chimera. They were pack but Isaac didn’t exactly take Theo being damaged as an excuse for anything. No wonder, his father had used to abuse him and lock him in a freezer in the basement.

Well, at least they had nicknames for each other.

Guinea Pig and Freezer Boy.

Stiles pretended that was progress.

“Let’s just book it over there,” Liam said eventually, “It’s not that far.”

 

They had gone for Liam’s approach. As long as they weren’t seen by a police car, Stiles doubted anybody would call the cops on them. Most people didn’t give a shit about teenagers exploring things they shouldn’t unless they were the owner or said teenagers just happened to drag a body bag down the stairs. The only person they almost had to drag around was Liam, who had slipped while climbing down a ladder; and they said Stiles was clumsy. Well, he didn’t drop into random holes in the woods or fell down steep ladders.

Isaac was the last to land on the ground. His face said it all. The gate was closed in front of them, tightly locked with a metal chain. “Now what?” They weren’t exactly the type of people to leave with unfinished business – even less after risking being charged with trespassing.

“Don’t know,” Liam offered unhelpfully, “Break the chain?”

“Break the chain,” Isaac echoed squinting at the youngest werewolf of their group as if he’d grown a second head. “Are you serious?”

“It’s an idea.”

“It’s a stupid idea! Why not flash your eyes at the authorities?” Stiles really appreciated Isaac being the voice of reason. It made his job so much easier. Also, he had done so much stupid and _illegal_ shit in his life that sometimes it felt particularly awkward to scold them for something they did. Stiles had been able to go as hard on Liam as he had done because he had never _ever_ played Bloody Mary. But he had broken into numerous places, so… _yeah_.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. He would find a way in that stupid tunnel, okay? Even if it was the last thing he had to do. Well, maybe that was a little dramatic. But still. They were here, they could already go to jail. So, if they were doing this, they would be going all in; no question asked. They just had to find a way. In the end Stiles _might_ be able to get the lock open without the werewolves having to use their super strength. He’d rather not, though, since that would be breaking and entering on top of the trespassing.

Then again- “Hey,” Stiles crouched down, “I think we can fit through there.” On the bottom left of the gate was a bar missing – and with them being pretty far apart anyway, a normal sized human should get into the tunnel like this. Perhaps that’s how the crackheads got in and out. The only thing mildly worrying about the gate being closed in the first place was the potential reasons; because Stiles knew that the gate wasn’t always closed. Either the dam was short of overflowing, there had been crackheads in there that had needed to be chased out _or_ something entirely else had happened.

 _Whatever_.

Stiles squeezed through the opening before somebody could say anything.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Theo asked incredulously; most likely referring to Stiles’ acting before thinking. It was a not so new but terrible habit.

Stiles sent him a toothy grin. “What?” He asked and whipped his head around. “ _Holy_ -“ The echo in the tunnel was intense; it almost sounded like the voice ricocheting off the wall wasn’t even his own but that of somebody further down the tunnel. It was particularly weird after the first echo. Then it sounded completely out of this world. Probably another reason to think this place was haunted. Even Stiles had to admit that the sound of that was somewhat creepy.

But that didn’t exactly mean there was nobody else in there.

“You comin’?” Stiles asked as nobody moved but instead stared into the darkness ahead of them.

Theo got into a crouch as well, frowning at the opening in the gate. “We’re so dead when this dam opens.”

Stiles switched his torch on and shone it into the tunnel. It didn’t really do much. Just like the daylight, his torch’s beam was swallowed by the darkness within. “We’d be dead with or without that gate if that were to happen,” he remarked eventually.

“Thanks for always bringing me back to reality,” Mason muttered meekly but he followed Theo into the tunnel either way.

Isaac followed next. “This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, man,” Mason agreed, his voice distorted in the distance. “The echo is intense.”

Liam looked the least convinced by what they were doing was a good idea. Stiles didn’t really understand why. He was ready to stay overnight at a bridge where hundreds of people had committed suicide but a simple flood control tunnel was off limits? The guy needed to get his priorities straight ASAP.

“Cosy,” Theo offered after they were all behind the gate, their torches pointed into the darkness of the tunnel. They couldn’t see the end of it and their echoing voices made it hard to discern if there was anybody with them in here.

Stiles took a step further into the tunnel, a little reluctant. It’s not that he was worried about paranormal things or an actual gate to Hell in here; he honestly was more worried about possible crackheads. Of course, they had werewolves with them but they couldn’t exactly go around killing people. “Dark, sketchy tunnels,” he muttered as Liam pressed to his side instantly; the only thing missing was him holding onto Stiles’ hoodie, “It must feel like home to you.”

“Oh, _snap_ ,” Isaac laughed – but it died abruptly as he heard it echoing back to him.

That shit’s creepy.

“Why are you the way you are?” Mason asked after a short silence. He looked into the darkness of the tunnel, still expecting someone – or something – to jump them when they weren’t attentively scanning their sketchy surroundings.

Stiles squints trying to make out any shapes or forms a couple of feet in front of them. But there was absolutely nothing there. “Childhood trauma,” he said, “ADHD and general charming character streaks.”

Isaac groaned. “Jesus Christ.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t say His name here,” Liam muttered sticking so close by Stiles’ side that he bumped into him and _flinched_ because of the contact. How did the guy even manage to play Bloody Mary without having a fricking heart attack? Or how had he attacked La Bête like he had a dying wish or something? He didn’t understand that kid.  

“What?” Isaac asked from behind Stiles, “You think Satan's gonna give me the one finger salute?”

“We’re all going to die,” Liam whined quietly.  

Theo, standing on Stiles’ other side, scoffed. “I don’t think they open the dam before the storm.”

“That’s not as calming as you think it is,” Mason muttered from behind his best friend. That guy brought them here. That guy had been about to talk them into lock, stock and barrel and now he was hiding behind his equally scared werewolf best friend and second guessed every decision ever that had brought him here. Possibly. Well, perhaps that was a good thing.  

Isaac directed his torch’s beam to their left. “Look at all these graffities.”

Even if reluctantly, Liam, too, turned his attention away from the darkness in front of them to check out the walls. “Long live Alex,” he read in a hushed voice.  

Mason followed their idea. “2026.”

“It’s such a random year.”

Stiles patted Liam’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s the year you finally realise that you have terrible taste in girls.”

Liam pouted. “ _Hey_.” But the heat was missing behind his complaint. Most likely because he didn’t have any acceptable counterargument. First Hayden and then the chic that now stalked his pack member on a regular basis. Thankfully, none of them actually owned any social media accounts which made it a little harder to track them down.    

Isaac chuckled suddenly; although it was kept rather quiet. Yeah. Nobody wanted to hear the creepy echo again. “‘I hate it when you can’t stop thinking about that one person and deep inside you know they haven’t thought about you once’.”

“ _Damn_ ,” Theo commented following Isaac’s reading with his flashlights.

Stiles shook his head. “Why would you spray that on a wall?” He wondered out loud before glancing back at the entrance. “Over there’s this great happy Super Mario Mushroom and here you have this bullshit.” He had his share of unrequited crushes – or at least crushes he either didn’t act on, grew out of or that didn’t happen for different reasons – but he had never, in his whole life, reached the point of spray painting his emotional turmoil all over the walls of an allegedly haunted tunnel. Then again, Lucifer would probably turn straight back to Hell after reading all this crap.

“Oh, come on,” Liam said a little louder now, his confidence obviously growing as no shadows appeared to attack them. “We’ve all been there.”

Isaac shook his head. “Nope.”

Mason gaped at him. “ _That’s_ depressing,” he confessed, “Not for you. For me.”

Stiles sighed, finally deciding to venture into the tunnel. “People want to climb Beacon Hills’ British boy,” he explained smirking at Isaac over his shoulder, “It’s the accent.” There was probably a statistic somewhere, that a British accent raised your chances to get laid by at least ninety percent.

Isaac shone the torch in his face. “Someone’s stroppy tonight.”

Stiles squinted and turned back around again. “Listen, I had hopes that at least one member of this pack wasn’t a total whacko,” he admitted frowning at Liam who pushed closer to him again like Stiles was the one protecting anybody – wouldn’t the logical decision be a werewolf? He shook his head. “But now I check out the Devil’s Gate as well as a bridge where people killed themselves and continue to do so.” Saying it out loud made the whole thing sound even worse. “I trusted you, Mason.”

Liam bumped into him again. “That’s what you get for being gullible.”

Isaac put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, shaking him slightly. “It’ll be fun.”

“Famous last words,” Theo remarked flicking the beam of his torch left and right. If there was one person who could be any less impressed by checking out a haunted gate to Hell, they would need to be completely apathetic.

“I swear to god,” Stiles uttered running a hand over his face, “if I get attacked by _one_ spirit I’ll make sure he gets four new playmates.”

Liam and Mason laughed nervously but quickly stopped. Isaac and Theo didn’t take him serious but the overall situation started to become somewhat unfunny; especially now that they were more than halfway into the tunnel. Ghosts and spirits were real, that’s a fact, and maybe there wasn’t a gate to Hell here but there could potentially be something lethal roaming around. But even that wasn’t the reason for Stiles’ being strung up. He was waiting for any tell-tale sign of the dam opening. Although he hoped he wouldn’t. Because that would be their demise approaching. The constant sound of water rushing didn’t make it any better.

“It’s already getting dark,” Isaac remarked. Stiles looked over his shoulder, spotting Isaac glancing back to the entrance. It appeared to be nothing more than a hole at the end of the tunnel – and the further they went to the back the more water was flowing at their feet. His sneakers weren’t particularly happy.

Liam, suddenly, stumbled and almost landed face first on the asphalt. Theo and Stiles reacted quickly, both grabbing one of his arms to keep him upright. Stiles’ torch hit the asphalt and went out immediately. Well, that was one torch down. Good thing they had four more; although Mason’s already flickered dangerously. He probably forgot to put new batteries in.

“Did you just stumble over _nothing_?” Theo mocked pulling the younger werewolf to his feet again.

Liam shook his head. “No, I swear- something tripped me.”

“ _Right_ ,” Isaac drawled.

“No, seriously,” Liam insisted flicking the beam of his torch to the ground, obviously searching for something. “Something grabbed my ankle.”

“It’s just your mind playing tricks on you,” Stiles countered crouching down to get his torch. He pressed the on/off button a couple of times but, like he expected, nothing happened – if he didn’t count the clicking sound echoing. With a sigh, he shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans. At the very least, he could use it to whack someone over the head. But the tunnels stayed empty. As expected.

The beams of two torches hit the end, showing a wall and a path to the left as well as one to the right. Of course, there could still be anyone here but it was quiet inside the tunnel – aside from the rushing of the water or their voices ricocheting off the walls. Additionally, none of the werewolves had mentioned to have heard something. So, the coast was most likely clear.

“But-“

“Liam,” Stiles replied sharply raising to his feet again, “There is nothing in here but us.” He continued to walk forward. With the end of the tunnel this close, and Liam short of freaking out, he just wanted to get this over with. They most likely had a whole night of shenanigans and hysteria in front of them; he’s so not ready to prolong this ordeal any more than strictly necessary.

The small group reached the end rather quickly. Theo looked left, Isaac right. Mason peeked over Stiles’ shoulder. Liam inched so close, it seemed like he wanted to form a symbiosis with him. This was mildly uncomfortable. Not that he was opposed to protecting his pack but, for heaven’s sake, this was a godforsaken flood control tunnel. Stiles didn’t want to think about how paranoid Liam might be at the Colorado Street Bridge tonight.

“Well,” Theo stated unenthusiastically, “That was anti-climactic.”

“I’m not sure what you expected,” Stiles said shrugging. Again, they were in a tunnel inside a dam on which end were two doors that controlled the flooding. The most terrifying thing was the door on their left. Somehow, it seemed like the sound of water was louder there than anywhere else.

Isaac clicked his tongue. “At least one pentagram and a _Satan was here_ graffiti.”

“Can you stop making fun of that?” Liam hissed.

“Can you stop being such a wuss?” Theo shot back.

Isaac ruffled Liam’s hair. “Don’t pee your pants tonight.”

“Okay, guys,” Mason interrupted, “Break it up.” He patted his best friend’s shoulder, who pouted impressively. It wasn’t like anybody painted a target on his back other than himself. If Liam wouldn’t act like he was such a scaredy-cat in the most random moments, nobody would bother mocking him. But the guy had the weirdest mood swings. He was either attempting to be the Robin to somebody’s batman, took out his big boy pants to woo a girl, was the pissy teenager he should be or acted like a goddamn child in need of a diaper’s change; there was no in between. Werewolf puberty was a nuisance. “Let’s just check if something’s here and then head off,” Mason said but he didn’t sound that much more confident than his best friend.

Theo furrowed his brow. “How do you want to do that? Call 666-666-666 and hope Satan isn’t busy planning the Apocalypse right now?”

“Well, I thought Stiles could do it?”

“Yes, wait. Let me speed dial him. I’ve saved his number under Lucy.” Stiles pulled out his phone, “I haven’t called him this week anyway. He’s probably cranky.”

Mason looked from Stiles to Theo and back again. “You know what?” He asked gesturing wildly. “You two deserve each other.” It was unclear whether it was a compliment or an insult. But Stiles wouldn’t ask him to make his statement clearer. Sometimes it was better to just let it rest. “ _Anyway_ ,” he continued shaking his head, “I thought about you using a rune to activate your sixth sense or something – like you did when you touched the dead kitsunes.”

Stiles pulled a face at that particular reminder. It really wasn’t pretty and not exactly his fondest memory. “You want me to tear open the palm of my hand and touch the walls?” He asked then, “I could get Hepatitis or an STD or something.”

“How do you get an STD by touching a wall?” Isaac inquired drawing his brows in.

“Dude,” Stiles exclaimed, “Do you know what’s on these walls?”

“That’s a fair point,” Liam muttered.

“Maybe you can do it without touching anything,” Mason countered giving the walls a critical look as well.

Stiles sighed. “Can we get out of here, if I do? I don’t want to drown.”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” Out of habit, Stiles had started to carry around his quill-thing. He never knew when he might need it for an emergency or something, like checking if a fucking flood control tunnel was haunted _or_ the entrance to Hell; it happened on a regular basis. What had his life come to? A while ago basically immortal creatures had been scared of him and now he was chilling in Pasadena and cutting a fricking rune into the palm of his hand because people were whispering fairy tales to each other – and the junior part of his pack believed in this shit. “Okay,” Stiles muttered flexing his fingers and shaking out his hand. It still stung, although it healed fairly quickly. “Good, now what?”

“I don’t know,” Isaac offered unhelpfully.

“We could knock on the door,” Theo suggested, “Shall I knock on the door?”

“You’re not taking this seriously, are you?” Mason complained crossing his arms.

Theo shook his head, laughing. “No. Not at all.”

“We also could draw a pentagram in your blood on the wall,” Isaac proposed.

Mason threw his hands in the air. Liam looked a little less paranoid but he still basically stapled himself to Stiles’ side.

“You know, the pentagram’s earliest documented use was from ancient Sumeria. The symbol used to represent the human body,” Stiles said pressing his index finger against the edge of the rune, “and the pentagram used to represent Christ’s five wounds in early Christianity. They even thought it was a symbol of protection.” Scowling, he opened and closed his hand hoping the sting would finally leave. Why did he cut his hand? He had known nothing would be down here. “It has a bunch of other meanings. But the Judeo-Christians basically fucked the whole thing up by using Pagan symbols – and the pentagram had been one of them. The Christian church was pissed and accused them of heresy. _But_ Hollywood adopted the pentagram as a symbol for evil and then there’s the ‘Church of Satan’ who flipped the pentagram upside down, put a goat head inside and ruined the symbol forever. Although they are only atheists and don’t actually worship Satan in the Christian sense.” Stiles shook his hand again, then looked up to find his pack staring at him completely baffled. Even Theo, who had endured his monologues about the weirdest things more often than the others, squinted at him with his mouth slightly open.

Isaac shook his head. “I can’t believe you get laid on a regular basis.”

“You already said that.”

“Well, I thought right now was a great time to repeat it.”

Mason rubbed his forehead. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

They had eaten at a diner with good rating on Yelp, packed their backpacks, bought water and snacks and reached the Colorado Street Bridge around ten in the evening. It was a pretty bridge with old street lamps and a horrible history. It dimmed the overall beauty of it which would have been a magnificent sight. Now it was sad, depressing almost – and as Stiles set foot on the bridge, he felt _odd_. Simply bad. A shudder ran down his spine, thinking about how many people had decided to end their life only a couple of steps away from where they were walking right now. Maybe staying here was disrespectful but maybe Mason was right and something lured those to death who were unsure about how to go on or if they should go on in the first place. Stiles could feel a sense of dread crawling up his spine.

Theo glanced over his shoulder, a small smile curling around the corner of his mouth. Did he feel the same thing or did he simply know how Stiles’ emotions simply toppled downhill? Probably the latter. But both could be true. After Stiles offered him a small smile as a response, he turned back around more listening to the conversation Mason and Liam had in low voices than actually participating in it.

Stiles rubbed his upper arm. “Isaac?” He asked quietly.

“Hm?” Isaac turned away from the railing to look at him.

“Have you ever, like, thought about it?” Stiles didn’t exactly feel comfortable talking about it here but he couldn’t really keep his curiosity away. Perhaps it had something to do with this bridge. “You even resisted the Darach when the others couldn't.”

Isaac was quiet for a few moments. The conversation in front of them quieted down. Of course, they would be listening in. But after a short silence, Isaac answered anyway. “Honestly? No.” He sounded very sure about his answer, “It took me a while to accept that my dad changed and as I realized he’d never go back to the man I loved, I was too far down the rabbit hole. I guess, I just have a strong sense of self-preservation. Otherwise I doubt I would’ve accepted the offer of strange guy in a leather jacket in a graveyard at night.”

“Well, Derek had always had a sense for the dramatic.”

“Tell me about it.”

They were silent again. Liam and Mason settled on one of the bends in the bridge, with some form of benches made out of stone that should have another use than what it had been misused for multiple times. For some reason, Stiles didn’t feel good about being this close to them. He rolled his shoulders and turned away locking eyes with Theo who leaned against the railing. But even that irked Stiles as wrong. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and turned to face the road. Right now, he'd even be glad to see the shadow of a girl that was supposedly running over the street during night time. This bridge didn’t feel right. Not even a little bit. It didn’t help that they were the only people here.

“Did you?” Isaac asked suddenly and Stiles flinched. Of course, he’d expected the question but not really after this long of a silence. “And I’m not asking about the time during the illusion.”

Although he didn’t want to talk about it, Stiles decided to give him a straight answer. “Yeah. I did. I mean, not _really_. It was-“ He didn’t know what it was other than hard to explain- “I was in a weird headspace after the nogitsune. I remembered everything it did and... I don’t know. I suffered from survivor’s guilt and there was a point in time where I wanted to right things. But it was never more than a thought. It never really stuck, you know? I just- I knew I’d kill my dad, too, if I did anything.” And yet, he was still ready to sacrifice himself in order to save those he cared about. His self-preservation had been damaged from the start. After all, he had let the nogitsune in to protect a total stranger. It had gotten worse afterwards. “But, maybe, this isn’t the right place to go into detail. It was a stupid idea to begin with.”

Theo took his hand, intertwined their fingers. “You okay?” He asked eyebrows drawn in.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it here,” Stiles replied squeezing his hand, “Let’s just- let’s go.”

“So, we don’t check this place out?” Mason asked but he didn’t sound disappointed. In fact, it seemed almost like he worried he was putting Stiles into a terrible headspace again.

Stiles shook his head. “For that we need to go under the bridge anyway.”

Liam whipped his head around. “ _What_?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this just got so out of proportion. I said I'd write One-Shots; which I couldn't even do the first time. Now I'm up to three chapters and the third one is [pre-edit] f*cking TWENTY PAGES or 7127 words with no place to cut.
> 
> What is wrong? Why don't my characters listen to me?
> 
> Chapter length after-edit: 21 pages. 7705 words. One plot-hole obliterated. Still confused at why the characters do whatever they want. 
> 
> Deal with it. This chapter almost broke me during editing. Four bloody hours. Dear Lord. Anyway, I don't want to complain. 
> 
> Have fun! <3

“Does anybody else think we should have waited for Lydia to come home before checking out this place?” Liam asked flicking his torch’s beam around like he was scared he would summon something if he looked to long at one place. Mason walked close by his side, fingers curled around the straps of his backpack. His torch gave up half way down this path – which had a no trespassing sigh at its start, surprise! – and neither of them brought any new batteries. They were officially the worst late night adventurous ever. So, now the supernatural creatures carried light sources they didn’t really need and the humans went basically in blind. _That’s_ something.

“Yes,” Isaac agreed walking between Mason and Liam as well as Stiles and Theo, who hadn’t let go of his hand aside from the one time they squeezed through the fence, “Let’s bring a banshee to a place where countless people died.” He groaned audibly and pointed his torch at the back of Liam’s head. “What’s your great plan? Drive her insane? _Again_?”

“Oh,” Liam said, “I didn’t think about that.”

 _Obviously_.

“So, this place is haunted.” Again, Theo sounded completely unbothered by everything. It seemed like he was even less impressed by all these rumours than Stiles was. Yes. They knew ghosts and spirits existed – and Stiles was absolutely ready to make a distinction between the two of them now – but he was apprehensive about all the rumours floating around. If you looked hard enough, every place in the entire world where somebody had died was supposed to be haunted. But then again, something about this bridge gave him a terrible feeling. Perhaps it was its history. Perhaps it was something else. Sure enough, Stiles wanted to see what’s what down here.

Mason turned around continuing to walk backwards. “Yeah, apparition, shadows, screams, unexplainable noises-“ he made an excessive gesture.

“Myrtle,” Stiles added.

“Myrtle,” Mason agreed.

“Are the two of you going to fill us in?” Isaac chimed in.

“It happened in 1937. Myrtle was a young woman who took her three-year-old and threw her off the bridge,” Mason explained turning around to walk forward again, “The kid survived because trees stopped her fall. Myrtle didn’t and now her ghosts is wandering around here looking for her child.”

Isaac glanced over his shoulder, back to the bridge. Stiles did the same. Even from down here it gave off a horrible vide. 144 feet high, 1486 feet long. Pure horror and dread. He’d never felt this bad when walking on top of it. This feeling was something, he didn’t want to have repeated – even the miracle of a little girl surviving the fall wasn’t making him feel better about this place. For a moment, he clenched his fist, the soft bandage stopping his nails from burying into his skin. His heightened emotions might be coming from the rune. But this thought didn’t exactly calm him down. Because if it came from his rune, that only meant something _was_ here; and he would rather go with being alone and getting spooked by his own shadow.

They continued down the path in silence now, everyone following their own thoughts. Theo was drawing small circles on the back of Stiles’ hand. A calming gesture that helped Stiles to focus on something else than the strange feeling in his gut. But their surroundings kept him on edge anyway. There were trees around them, casting shadows. Small animals were moving around. Leaves rustled. At least nothing seemed supernatural; and Theo as well as Isaac continued to walk calmly. Liam, who whipped his head around like someone was puppeteering him, couldn’t really be accounted as a reliable werewolf early warning system. The guy seemed to be afraid of a cricket as of right now – not that Stiles blamed him. He was feeling uneasy, wrong, and he wanted to get rid of the rune on his hand. Not to mention that the thunder rolling in the distance made the whole atmosphere very cliché as well as tremendously eerie.

“We could stay there,” Mason said pointing at a spot in front of them. It was a spot directly underneath the bridge which would give them at least safety from possible rain; rain that seemed to come closer. It was forecasted for the night, so staying here would become a fucking nuisance. But after setting foot on that bridge and feeling as weird as he had done, not even terrible weather would get him away from here. This needed to be checked out; he needed to know if he was simply stupidly superstitious all of the sudden – with good reason, considering his life – or if this place was, in fact, haunted.

“Am I the only one who thinks that this is a terrible idea?” Liam got two blankets out of his backpack, which he spread with Isaac’s help.

“Define terrible,” Theo instructed with a raised brow.

Liam threw the empty backpack at him. “I don’t know,” he said sounding ruffled at the fact that Theo had simply caught and dropped it at his side, “We might be seeing something we don’t want to see.” This was something that had crossed Stiles’ mind as well. What if something happened tonight? What if someone hurt themselves tonight while they were sitting here chasing ghosts? And what if afterwards they would find out that what they had been chasing were nothing more than fairy tales and pipe dreams?

He ran a hand over his face closing his eyes for a second.

“See it as a case,” Isaac recommended. “We’re not here for fun. We’re trying to see if something’s down here and if it is, if it’s harmful – and if it is harmful, we’re getting rid of it.”

“Think about how many lives we could safe if there really was a spirit here that lured unsuspecting people to death!” Mason put both hands on Liam’s shoulders, comforting in a way only a best friend could be – the kind of best friend that would sit through everything with you, that would never give up on you, never doubt you, that would go to a haunted place with you and sit through the whole night keeping you company even if you were terrified. They were this friends to each other. The worst part? Stiles could see a resemblance two Scott and his friendship in theirs. Mason and Liam were what they had used to be and more. Let’s be real here, Stiles could have done a handstand and a questionable ritual and he wouldn’t have gotten Scott on a weekend trip without his girlfriend during that time. But here Mason was, alone, texting Corey then and again like a normal person in a relationship would do – because they were actually not co-depended. Even Stiles and Theo spend time apart, although they lived together. Not that Theo would let Stiles do stupid shit like that without his protection _ever_.

The five of them settled onto the blankets.

“I’d still rather stay in our house tonight,” Theo remarked snatching the backpack from Isaac, who had carried the beverages around, “You know, where it’s warm, we have beds and don’t need to worry about getting washed away.”

“Interesting priorities, Guinea Pig.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “What do I care about some stranger offing themselves?”

“Because every life is valuable,” Mason exclaimed throwing his hands in the air, “and instead of getting lured to death by some ghost, they need to know that there’s hope, there’s people willing to help – even if they are total strangers.” There was a story behind these words, something Mason didn’t tell, wouldn’t tell but something had driven him to be this urgent and demanding about this. Liam knew that’s why he had come together with his best friend to convince Stiles to come here and check this place out – and honestly, Stiles hoped they would find something. Maybe it would ease his minds.

“Well, I don’t-“

“Empathy, Theodore,” Stiles interrupted him sharply, “Empathy.”

“Don’t call me Theodore.”

“Then don’t be an insensitive dickhead.”

Theo glared at him and for a few seconds. Stiles was quite sure he would get up and walk his annoyance off. That’s something he did sometimes, when he didn’t understand what he was getting reprimanded for – and this topic was high above his current understanding of how the world was supposed to function. Theo didn’t understand compassion. His emotional range was small. Anger, he understood, as well as desire. Primal instincts. He could name emotions, new how to manipulate and use them for his own good but feeling them? Comprehending them? It would take time. Stiles wasn’t even sure he had understood what Isaac and he had been talking about. Theo most likely had gotten his chemo signals, realised what they meant and stuck close.

_You smell sad. I don’t like it._

A few words that had said a lot about how Theo was really doing. Not good. Not good at all. He hid it, most of the time, and acted like he his moral compass wasn’t completely skewed still. Because acting was something Theo’s good at, _really_ good. Sometimes even Stiles tended to forget that Theo more or less lived by the motto ‘fake it till he made it’. Pretending would only get him so far, though.

“Fine,” Theo muttered eventually zipping the backpack shut a little harsher than strictly necessary, “How do we find out if there’s a ghost?”

“We ask.” Mason pulled his backpack onto his lap.

Theo blinked. “What?”

Stiles stared at him. “You _didn’t_.”

“What? How do we ask-“ Theo stopped mid-sentence staring at the game Mason was dropping in their middle.

Liam covered his face with his hands. Stiles understood the reaction; although covering his face wouldn’t stop him to hear the speech he had prepared for Mason – and Liam most likely had a general idea for what’s coming for his best friend. This was wrong on _so many_ levels, Stiles didn’t even know where exactly to begin. He opened his mouth, closed it and clenched his teeth. He was really conflicted. For one, he didn’t believe in it since nothing ever happened when he had played it while being younger; shortly after his mother’s death to be exact. For another, after all the shit they had seen and heard and done, his doubts started to crack – and fucking around with something like that was dangerous. All his thoughts and struggles accumulated in one singular word.

“No.”

“No?” Isaac echoed squinting at him, “That’s all you have to say about this?”

Even Liam looked appalled. Not that surprising considering how much shit Stiles had given him for playing Bloody Mary.

“Yes,” Stiles decided moving until he sat cross-legged on the blanket.

Liam opened and closed his mouth, then scowled. “You yelled at me for playing Bloody Mary but this Ouija Board is just _no_.”

Stiles let go of Theo’s hand and put his hands in his lap, tugging at the seam of his sweatpants. Yes, all of them were wearing the most comfortable clothes they could possibly find because they knew nothing about this night would be anything close to cosy – honestly, Stiles wasn’t even sure he could find any rest tonight even if there weren’t anything happening here. This place had the worst vibes, which wasn’t only by courtesy of its history.  

“Because it doesn’t work,” Stiles said eventually.

Liam opened his mouth, then closed it. “Well, Bloody Mary doesn’t either.”

“There are a million ways to summon her,” Stiles remarked sharply, “You probably just dodged a bullet. But this- there is only one way to play and it doesn’t work.”

Mason didn’t look convinced. “How do you know?”

“Because he played it,” Theo concluded, eyes roaming over the side of his face, “You did, didn’t you?”

Stiles tightened his hold on his sweatpants, nails digging into the soft fabric. “Yes, I played.” He didn’t look anybody in the eye. “After my mother died. I couldn’t talk to my dad so I wanted to talk to her.” His dad had been drunk most of the time, slept all day. Stiles had struggled with his just recently diagnosed ADHD. Everything had been fucked up. He had just wanted answers – and he had intended to get them. “I broke every rule. I played alone. I played on a graveyard. I disrespected the spirits, didn’t say goodbye.” He shrugged. “Nothing happened.” Nobody answered. But he hadn’t wanted to go home, so he had stayed the night at the cemetery, screaming at his mother’s grave, throwing tantrum after tantrum – until the sun had come up in the morning.

“Holy crap,” Isaac exclaimed suddenly, “I remember how my dad told my mom that he had found a kid. He said the boy was hypothermic and crying for his mother.” Something crossed over his face, something Stiles couldn’t decipher. “You almost died that night.”

“Dad got better afterward.” Stiles kept his gaze locked on the ground and pulled his hand away as Theo attempted to reach out. “I guess it was worth it.” Theo curled his hand into a fist, then placed it next to Stiles’ knee. It wasn’t his intention to hurt him but Stiles couldn’t take pity and comfort right now. He wanted to leave. This place was foul. It brought up so much Stiles had sworn he wouldn’t think about any more.

With a sigh, he took off the bandage. “Well, the past is the past,” he announced getting to his feet, “Let me check if I can find something before we're starting the slumber party.” His pack didn’t look convinced at his sudden mood swing. “Listen, this place gets to me. I can’t explain it.” Stiles ran his fingertips through Theo’s hair, who followed his every movement attentively. “It just makes me depressive.”

“Is it the rune?” Liam asked carefully.

It seemed like Stiles was the only one susceptible to this odd atmosphere. “Possible,” he said then pressing the palm of his hand against the bridge's pillar. Immediately on impact, the negative emotions doubled, tripled. Every bit of happiness, of positivity was carved from his body. He felt hollowed out, empty. The warmth drained away until there was nothing left but cold and darkness. No pain. No sorrow. “This place is death.” His voice was shaking as he spoke. His throat closed up, eyes burning.

Then someone grabbed his wrist. It wasn’t Theo like he expected but Mason. His grip was surprisingly strong as he pulled Stiles’ hand away from the cool surface. “Maybe you should get rid of that rune.”

“Maybe I should.”

 

It was a little after midnight when Stiles nudged the Ouija Board with his foot. They had talked about nothing really, eaten a sandwich – because his supernatural friends were very much insatiable – and more or less waited until Stiles’ emotions had become stable enough to do something other than sitting around and talking, basically waiting for something to jump them. “But I’m not gonna touch it.”

“You don’t believe in it,” Theo remarked observing as Mason started to immediately open the package.

Stiles nodded. “It doesn’t work if someone touches it who doesn’t believe in it,” he explained as Liam inspected the heart shaped planchette sceptically. It was obvious that he didn’t trust the Ouija Board one bit. “Also, I doubt it’s a good idea for me to get involved with it in case it _does_ work. I’m vulnerable to all these influences around here. I don’t wanna invite anything.”

“Good point,” Isaac agreed scooting closer to the talking board, “Ghosts latch onto the weak.”

“Then maybe Liam shouldn’t play either,” Theo smirked.

Liam scoffed. “Says the guy most likely to disrespect the spirits.”

“You know the rules?” Stiles interrupted just before Theo could fire something back.

Mason nodded firmly then went into a quick explanation. Don’t take your fingers off while playing. Always say goodbye. Don’t play in a cemetery. Never play alone – although there were different opinions on that rule. Some said it was too dangerous to play alone because demons (yes, _demons_ , Stiles couldn’t believe it either) and spirits would have an easy target. Others said that it wouldn’t work alone because one person wasn’t powerful enough to make a connection to the spirit realm. Other rules were: Be respectful and take the game seriously. Mason also made sure that Isaac, Liam and Theo knew about the signs of an evil presence – he probably avoided the word _demon_ because of Stiles’ raised eyebrows – trying to break through. The planchette moving in an infinity symbol. The planchette being moved in all four corners or making rapid movements in general. The spirit counting up or down the alphabet or numbers. To top it all off, Mason warned them about the ‘spirit’ – again he avoided the word demon pointedly – of the Ouija Board. He didn’t tell them his name but mentioned that Z and O, Z and A or M and A would be repeated multiple times.

“Got that?” Mason asked while lighting a couple of candles. They weren’t black but they needed to make a connection to a spirit, so they couldn’t exactly keep them at bay.

Liam blinked but nodded, even if he didn’t seem too convinced. Isaac muttered something under his breath to which Theo responded with a quiet cackle which then lead to everyone looking at him in mild confusion.

“ _What_?” Theo defended himself. “It was funny, okay?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Remember, don’t ask how the spirit died and don’t ask about your own death.” His pack gathered in a half-circle around the board facing him. All four of them put two fingers on the planchette – then looked at him. Stiles turned off the torches but kept the last one in a tight grip. It wouldn’t do shit in case of a spirit invasion, still, it made him feel a lot better to hold onto something. “Now, then. Call the spirits upon us.”

“Okay,” Mason said, his voice taught, “I guess, I do the talking?” The three others muttered their agreements unanimously. “First, we draw a circle across the board for everyone who plays – meaning five.”

Isaac squinted at Mason. “We’re four.”

“Plus the spirit we’re inviting.”

“ _Right_.” Isaac didn’t appear to be entirely convinced about the whole endeavour.

Stiles bit his bottom lip. To be quite frank, he didn’t feel too good about letting the four of them do it alone. But in case the board actually did work, he’d either ruin it or put himself at risk – neither would be very wise so he would sit here and kick his heels while his pack either communicated with fucking spirits or re-enacted the latest slumber party. Stiles really wasn’t the biggest fan of either or situations. Not even in the slightest. This was like having a fifty/fifty chance at dying.

After circling the board five times, Mason took a breath. “Is there anybody here, who wants his communicate with us?”

Liam pressed his eyes shut. Isaac squinted at the board and Theo locked eyes with Stiles, brows raised.

Thunder rolled over the sky again, trees rustled in the wind. Stiles glanced around; after all, they were still waiting for something to show up – ghosts, spirits, apparition, other teenagers who attempted to figure out the truth about the infamous Suicide Bridge. Murderers. It was better to be prepared for everything.

“What would we do if the planchette moved to _no_ now?” Isaac asked glancing from his fingers, to Stiles and then to Mason.

“Say goodbye,” he replied instantly, “You don’t force spirits to talk.”

“Yeah, they might throw a half-empty coffee cup at you,” Theo said with an amused chuckle.

Stiles groaned. “That was _one_ time.”

“You threw a coffee cup at him?” Isaac looked like he didn’t know whether to be amused or bemused by the statement.

“He pissed me off,” Stiles said gesturing in Theo's general direction, “It was either that or pushing him off the balcony.”

“See? This is what-“ Theo stopped short as the planchette began moving. Something odd crossed his expression and Stiles was sure that he neither was the one moving it nor did he expected something to happen. It also told him that Theo believed in the workings of a spirit board, which came as a surprise. The guy was totally unimpressed by everything so far and then he got the heebie-jeebies by a game children could play.

Liam whined, eyes still closed firmly. This kid would kick everybody’s ass but put him in a place with paranormal activity and he would rather hide under the blankets – because everybody knew those protect you from everything.

“Did you move that, Mason?” Isaac asked squinting at the planchette stopped over the word _yes_.

“No.”

“Liam?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Guinea Pig?”

Theo shook his head, too worried about the moving planchette to notice he reacted to the nickname he hated with a passion.

“Okay, okay-“ Mason waved his free hand around, “What’s your name?”

Isaac clenched his teeth. Something about his expression was unnerving. If the four of them didn’t secretly decide to fuck with Stiles – which he doubted considering how terrible he had felt upon arrival and how guilty Mason still was for bringing him here – that fucking board actually _worked_. So, maybe the rules were true and one person alone wasn’t strong enough to form a connection; or nobody had wanted to talk to him back when he had tried it as a little boy. Whatever it was, it sure didn’t feel good.

Maybe this was a terrible idea to begin with.

Stiles focused on the board again, fingers tightening around the torch. _T-A-M-A-R-A._ A girl or woman. If the spirit told the truth.

“How old were you, when you died?”

The sound of the planchette moving was eerie. It was a slow and low scratching, plastic over fake-wood. Stiles tensed, muscles in his shoulders and neck rigid.

_1-5_

God. She was so young. That poor girl. How could she have been so desperate at such a young age?

“Are there- are there any other spirits here right now?”

_No_

Mason pressed his lips in a tight line. He wanted to find something. He wanted to find the reason for so many people jumping off that bridge – a reason that would go beyond desperation. Who did he lose that he wanted to prove a spirit activity in this place?

“Is there _something_ here that…” Mason shook his head. “Did you want to jump when you came here?”

_No_

Mason clenched his jaw. “So, someone made you jump?”

_No_

Stiles drew his eyebrows in. She didn’t want to jump but nobody made her jump either? That didn’t exactly made sense. But the planchette kept moving. Wind picked up. There trees not too far away were rustling louder now, wood creaking. This wasn’t exactly what Stiles would call a good sign.

_Not jump_

He could’ve sworn there was a shadow to his right. As he blinked, it was gone. Goodness gracious. He needed to calm down.

“You didn’t jump?”

_Yes_

“How did you die then?”

“Mason!” Stiles warned but the planchette was already moving again. You shouldn’t ask a spirit how it died. It was, first of all, fucking rude. That was disrespecting the spirits; and wasn’t that high up on the goddamn list of not to do? Oh _god_. He believed in the board, didn’t he? This was terrible. This was horrible.

_M-U-R-D-E-R-E-D_

Mason quickly glanced up at Stiles, who pointed a warning finger at him. “Who murdered you?”

 _For fucks sake_. This kid was about to get them fucking killed. Stiles should put a reminder on the fridge to never _ever_ play Ouija with Mason ever again – or let Mason do anything at all if he did something stupid like this as soon as he would get the slightest lick of responsibility.

_T-H-E-O_

“What the-“ Theo stared at the pack, then Stiles – eyes wide. “I didn’t kill her,” he said shaking his head, “I don’t know anybody with the name Tamara.” But how many people had Theo killed before coming pack to Beacon Hills? Maybe one of the Dread Doctors had once snatched a girl from the streets with the name Tamara. Maybe he hadn’t even known her name as she had died. “I swear, Stiles,” Theo repeated obviously sensing what was going on in Stiles’ head, “I’ve never been here before. I didn’t kill that girl.” He wanted to believe Theo. He really did – and he hated himself for doubting him in the first place. Theo had never lied to him; hopefully he never would. Even if he was trying to keep another kill hidden from him, Stiles had decided to ignore Theo’s past. He changed, was changing.

“Ask her,” Stiles said.

Theo clenched his teeth, his jaw a prominent line. “Did I kill you?”

_Yes_

“No, I did _not_.” Thunder rolled over the sky, almost like the spirit was angry Theo defied her accusation.

Stiles put a hand on his shoulder, feeling Theo’s muscles tense sharply under the touch.

“Where did you die?” Isaac asked quickly glancing up at Theo, then back down to the board as the planchette moved again.

_B-E-A-C-O-N-H-I-L-L-S_

“Guys, this is not funny,” Stiles hissed.

“We’re not moving it!” Liam exclaimed almost throwing both his hands in the air. But he seemed to think better of it and instead clenched his free hand. “I promise. We’re not moving it!” His pack consisted out of assholes, that wasn’t even news, still – they weren’t that big of jackasses. None of them would fuck with Theo on this level; not when it could hit home and disrupt his therapy on this scale.

Stiles clenched his teeth. He licked his lips, then moved his hand. Theo grabbed his wrist. “ _Don’t_.”

“Ask her what she wants.”

But the planchette moved without waiting for anybody to direct the question to the board.

_H-I-S-H-E-A-R-T_

A fifteen-year-old girl who had been murdered in Beacon Hills. A fifteen-year-old girl who blamed Theo to be her killer. She wanted the heart of her killer. Why the heart? She hadn’t jumped. She had never wanted to jump. Was she pushed? Had she fallen? Had it been an accident? She had died at a bridge. She said her name was Tamara.

Her name _wasn’t_ Tamara.

“Say goodbye.”

“What? Why?” Mason blinked in confusion.

“Say goodbye _now_.” Stiles got to his feet in an instant, pushing most of their belongings into their backpacks in a frenzy. They had to go. They had to leave ASAP. Why did he even allow them to play the game? Why couldn’t he just _believe_ in the board and talk them out of it instead of trying to show them that this thing was nothing more than a stupid game played at a slumber party? Why was it so easy for him to accept the myth of Bloody Mary but blatantly disregarded the Ouija Board?

Because you could buy it in a toy store.

Because the notes said that it was _ages 8+_.

“ _Stiles_!”

“What?” As he turned around, the planchette flew off the board and hit him in the middle of the chest. It hurt and he pressed a hand to his sternum. _Ow_. “Please, tell me you said goodbye?”

“We did,” Liam winced, “Or, at least, we pushed the planchette to goodbye and then it-“ He gestured his hand from the board to Stiles. That wasn’t a good sign, was it? Wasn’t the planchette supposed to stay on goodbye once you wanted to end the session? What if it didn’t stay there?

Isaac jumped to his feet. “How about we book it?”

“Good idea.”

 

They were all too agitated to go to bed. Isaac continued to get up from his chair, walk across the living room and sat down again. He had just gotten up for the sixth time in half an hour. Mason flinched every time the wind made the rain slam against the windows, a thunder growled or the lightning illuminated the living room. Liam lied motionless on the floor, every now and again shaking his head, and looking at the ceiling. Theo had been staring outside since they arrived, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unmoving.

Stiles flicked his jack knife open and close, watching the blade spring free before pushing it back down again. The push of a button. The press of his fingertips against cool metal. He was sitting on the armrest of the couch closest to where Theo was currently standing, eyes locked on his reflection in the window. He flipped the knife open again. Close. Open. Then he raised to his feet. Isaac briefly acknowledged his movement as Stiles crossed the distance between him and Theo. His thumb nudged the button. The blade sprung free again. Nobody took notice of that either. They all trusted him blindly.

How foolish.

“You know,” Stiles said as he stopped behind Theo, “I can’t keep doing this.”

Theo started out of his thoughts. He blinked, eyes focusing on Stiles’ reflection. “What?”

Stiles tilted his head slightly to the left, fingers adjusting their grip on the knife’s handle. “Pretending to care about you,” he replied then watching as blue eyes widened in utter surprise. “It’s exhausting and I mean, let’s be honest here-“ Stiles turned the knife in his hand, attention locked on the horror in Theo’s expression – “we all know that at the end of the day, nobody really gives a shit about you. Especially not me.”

“Stiles,” Isaac said stopping in his tracks, “What the hell?”

Theo turned around. “What? No-“

“Don’t act so surprised.” Stiles rolled his eyes, a small smile curling around his lips as Theo paled visibly. “You were a monster, you are a monster, you will be a monster. This night just proved it.” Again, he turned the knife in his hands.

“ _Stiles!_ ” Isaac repeated.

“I’m done.” Stiles moved quickly. His hand shot forward and the blade buried itself deeply in Theo’s stomach. “Done trying to convince myself you've changed.” He clicked his tongue, watching Theo opening his mouth as he twisted the knife deeper. His hands grabbed Stiles’ but he couldn’t do anything – or he didn’t. “Done pretending you deserve anything but Hell.” He gripped Theo by the throat and simply threw him out of the room, through the closed patio door. Glass shattered but the thunder stole the noise away.

Behind him, the rest of the pack moved.

Stiles turned, watching as Isaac and Liam hesitantly readied himself to protect their pack member – even if it meant going against their own alpha. “Sit down,” Stiles spit. Both werewolves end up on their knees, unable to move further, within a second. Mason hadn’t moved at all, shock was holding him in place as the storm found residence in the living room.

Stiles scoffed at the weakness of his pack, then turned his attention back to Theo. The chimera was inching away from him, horror and confusion a treat on his handsome features. “How about you roll onto your back-“ Stiles had barely spoken the words as an invisible force shoved Theo down. His head hit the asphalt with an audible thud. So much possibilities. These powers were endless. _Fantastic._ Stiles clicked his tongue again. Smiling, he placed his foot on Theo's throat, keeping him down that way. Then he tipped his head back and enjoyed the feel of the rain and wind, enjoyed feeling of the thunder rumbling deep in his bones. Everything was so intense in this body. Had being alive always felt like this?

“Did you really think I could love you?” Stiles asked eventually looking down at Theo again, “Or forgive you for what you did?” He applied more pressure. That’s more like it. That’s how it was supposed to happen; Theo choking and bleeding on the floor, his heart slipping through his fingers without even the smallest chance to stop it.

Something slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball. It sent him flying off Theo and into the pool. The surprise quickly became panic that crawled its way up his spine. He surfaced as quickly as possible and got out of the pool, the cold making it hard to move. A tail slashed at him, missing his shoulder by the smallest of inches.

He snarled.

“Stiles!” A voice begged – Lydia. She kneeled at Theo’s side pulling him away with the help of Danny. Kira raised her sword, electricity curling around it as lightning struck in the sky. Next to her, Jackson had taken position. Kanima venom dropped from his claws, his tail curled loosely around his feet. The confusion brought Mason, Isaac and Liam to the arena again.

“That’s not Stiles,” Liam announced and even though he knew, he didn’t go for an attack but stayed behind Jackson and Kira.

Mason made a sound of despair. “I think it’s Tamara.”

“Who?” Danny asked.

“We tried contacting spirits via the Ouija Board,” Mason explained but his voice got quieter and quieter with each word.

“You did _what_?” Lydia snapped. Her voice echoed shrill in Stiles’ mind, pulling and tearing at the shreds of control. “How could you be so-

“That banshee needs to shut up,” Stiles decided. Lydia choked on her next word. She pressed both hands to her throat, opened her mouth but no sound came out of it. “Yeah,” he said rolling his shoulders, “That’s better.” Clicking his tongue, his eyes roamed over his pack as well as Danny, who now helped Lydia to safety, and Jackson, whose expression contorted into a grotesque mask of wrath.

“That’s not Tamara,” Theo said suddenly, “That’s Tara.”

Stiles’ lips spread over his teeth in a wide grin. “Now that were all introduced,” he said rubbing his hands together, “How about you give me my little brother and nobody else gets hurt?”

“How about no,” Isaac chimed in, “You revoked your right to terrorize him as you dragged him to Hell, bitch.”

“ _Bitch_?” Jackson echoed, “Seriously?”

“He’s mine to annoy now,” Isaac continued as if nobody said anything – and it seemed like he meant what he said. His shift was instantly. Yet he didn’t make a move on Stiles. At least not yet. He appeared to be a force to be reckoned with. It seemed to be smart to stay careful around him – or take him out immediately.   

“It’s family business,” Stiles explained shaking his head, “He owes me his heart.”

“You already have it.” Theo forced himself to his feet bumping into Isaac as he stopped hiding behind the rest of the pack. “What more do you want?”

“I want you to tear it out of his chest like you let them do it to me.”

“When you said dysfunctional,” Jackson interrupted squinting at Kira, “You clearly weren’t exaggerating.”

Theo passed him, too, his feet dragging over the floor like something pulled him towards Stiles. Well, something _did_. It would break him forever. Theo would never come back from killing him. This was the one thing he had never wanted to do since the moment he had met him all those years ago. Who could have expected that his crush would turn into something like this? Who would’ve thought that this scrawny little kid would mean too much to him?

Stiles put a hand on Theo’s cheek, who flinched at the touch. “Isn’t this fantastic?” He asked glancing over his shoulder, not really addressing anybody in particular. “They’ll all watch you kill me. Isaac, Kira, Jackson, Danny and Lydia. They’ll see who you really are.”

“You're not Stiles.”

“The result will be the same,” he said caressing his cheek, “You are going to kil-“

Stiles screamed as it felt like his spine was snapped in two; again and again. He went to his knees, Theo following, crouching down. His fingernails dug into the wet asphalt, shards of glass buried themselves into his skin. “They're breaking the board now, Tara.”

A hiss escaped his lips. Stiles looked at him, seething. He wanted to break his neck, beat his pretty face into a bloody pulp. Theo didn’t have the right to grow up. Theo didn’t have the right to fall in love. He didn’t have the right to get everything he robbed his sister off. “I will cut out his heart before they are finished.”

“I like to see you try,” Jackson appeared at his side, claws digging into his neck. Stiles opened his mouth for a silent scream, as pain rung down his body. He leaned down, smirk pressing into the shell of his ear. “ _Bitch_.” He gasped at the claws were pulled out of his neck again.

Stiles grinned, a last resort. Tara would get her way. But her control was slipping – and he was not about to give up like that. Not when he had the chance. He hurled himself backwards and into the pool. His spine snapped again. A fifth time as he hit the water. He could feel the rush of power even though he sunk like a stone. He could feel the panic. A sixth time as he hit the ground of the pool. He gritted his teeth to hold in the scream. His whole body seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces as the board was broken the seventh time. Tara fought the restrains of his body. Theo fought Jackson's hold on him. Just a little longer. Just a little-

Electricity filled the pool. Something was ripped away from him and he screamed, water filling his mouth. He struggled, trying to push the water out of his mouth. But he couldn’t not yet. Not really. But there was something else he could do. He could move, at least his arms and only barely at that. Still, he managed to turn around and found himself face to face with Tara. She didn't look any different from what he’d seen in both of Theo's hallucinations. Pale face. Her skin broken and shredded. Her chest opened, heart missing.

The ground was opening underneath her. A black hole into an empty darkness. It pulled her down and further down. Her hiss was distorted underneath the water. She grabbed the edge, tried to grab his wrist. He could feel it tugging at him as well. Staying here too long would drag him down with her. As she opened her mouth to a silent scream, her eyes filled with panic, he thought about taking her hand – he wondered if he were even capable of saving her from the Hell she had been thrown into or had herself made a prisoner in.

Stiles clenched his teeth. This was his body and he did not take possession very well. Not even a little bit. There had to be a line; and it was drawn right here. Not only did she possess him, she also used him to attack his pack – used him to destroy her brother. This ended. This ended right here. He could feel Kira's power running through his veins, he could feel the water clearing away Jackson's venom. He was stronger than her – and as she bares her rotten teeth at him, Stiles realized she was aware of that. Tara had her chance and she blew it because she had been too focused on shattering her little brother that she hadn't noticed Mason and Liam slipping away.

Ignorance wasn’t always bliss.

Stiles planted his hands firmly on the ground and pushed himself off, away from the fucking abyss in the middle of the swimming pool, away from Tara. He re-surfaced sucking air into his lungs he hadn’t known he needed until he did.

“Holy fuck,” Jackson called from somewhere behind him, “I thought you’d grown gills down there.”

Stiles turned around and almost toppled over as Kira pulled her katana out and the ground reconstructed itself, closing the entrance to Hell. Maybe they should have brought her to the Devil's Gate – or maybe not. What the fuck was he thinking? It would be rather awkward and even harder to explain that they accidentally kick-started the Apocalypse out of sheer curiosity. Malicious spirits and vengeful sisters were one thing but Lucifer might be above their paygrade.  Shaking his head, he heaved himself out of the pool – ignoring his oddly tingling legs. Stiles did not miss kanima venom and its effects even in the slightest.

Jackson got annoyed halfway through his escape of the swimming pool. Despite Lydia's warnings not to come in contact with his skin, he grabbed Stiles by the back of his sweatpants, lifted him up and out and dropped him ungracefully on the floor. “Lo and behold,” he teased as Stiles sat down on his behind awkwardly, “The powerful alpha is here.”

Stiles wanted to see him move with his legs mostly paralysed. “Fuck off, Whittemore,” he countered unoriginally. But he was too exhausted to bother with the quality of his comebacks. Instead he leaned back against Theo who immediately wrapped his arms around his chest, carefully avoiding any sort of skin-on-skin contact. Well, now they knew at least that possession woke his void up. That’s something to note.

“Who gets their alpha possessed by a vengeful spirit?” Danny asked shaking his head in disbelief.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noticed how Mason inched a little to the left in order to hide behind his best friend. These two were so banned from everything remotely paranormal looking. If he caught them playing any game involving ghosts or spirits or – heaven forbit! – _demons_ ever again, he would personally drop their asses in Satan's throne room with a little note attached that said: Do whatever you want. They deserved it.

Isaac threw his arms in the air. “Welcome to the Stilinski pack,” he yelled imitating every obnoxious pitchman ever, “We offer fun and excitement for the whole family; even the dead ones.” He added a wink in Theo's direction.

Liam groaned. “We're so damaged.”

“Hey, I didn’t kill my sister!”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You’re not exactly the picture perfect for mental stability, sweetheart.”

Isaac crossed his arms with a pout. Kira chuckled on the quiet. “Oh, excuse me Ms. ‘I Almost Killed Brett's Sister Because My Fox Didn’t Like To Be Benched During A Lacrosse Game’. What are you laughing at?” That got her to shut up.

“I didn’t kill my sister either,” Theo muttered into Stiles’ shoulder.

“No,” he agreed patting his leg, “You just watched her freeze to death. That’s much healthier.”

“What the bloody hell did we come back to?” Jackson covered his face with his hand while sighing dramatically.

Stiles scoffed. “You do fit right in Mr. ‘Bite Gone Horribly Wrong’. Also-“ Stiles gestured in the direction of Mason and Liam, completely ignoring the attempt to defend himself- “Meet Mason ‘Got Turned Into A Medieval White Guy’ Hewitt and Liam ‘Walking Anger Issue’ Dunbar.” The two of them gave a little wave at the introduction as Jackson and Danny turned to look at them. “There is nobody remotely normal here.”

“I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative.” Danny put his hands on his hips, offended that Stiles lowered him onto their level – and it’s true, other than having an affair with a moronic werewolf, there was nothing Stiles could pin on him. Other than pretending not to know about the supernatural although he totally had done the whole time.

Stiles shook his head. “What are you even doing here? I didn’t expect you before Monday – or you,” he added motioning in the direction of Danny and Jackson. “In fact, _you_ I didn’t expect at all here back in the land of freedom where we have an infestation of stupid people who like to hunt teenagers with real guns, teeth or claws – or all of the above.”

“We didn’t feel good about staying away for longer,” Kira explained, “After what happened with the skin walker.”

“Oh, who blew that outta proportion?”

“What? You mean out of proportion as in you going around provoking supernatural creatures _twice_ in one day?” Isaac asked raising his brows.

Fair point.

“We heard from Parrish that you’re in Pasadena for a weekend trip,” she continued pushing her hands in the pocket of her jeans, “Then Lydia sensed death and we ended up here.”

“Just in time to save the day,” Jackson reminded him with a smirk.

“And you’re here to, what, visit?” Isaac crossed his arms over his chest.

Danny cocked his head. “We're thinking about coming back.”

“What is it with people coming back to that shit show of a city?” Silence settled over those present. It was their home. Most of them were born in this town, grew up there, found friends and love and family. Stiles wasn’t sure if he had stayed wouldn't he have had a pack all of the sudden – or the dooming realisation that he was so far away from normalcy as a someone could possibly be.

Stiles ran a hand over his face, topping his head back a little so he could use Theo’s shoulder as an – even if a mildly uncomfortable – cushion. It was still raining, although not as strong anymore, and the thunder had gotten quieter. But none of them made a move to get inside. They were all drenched anyway and eighty percent of the people here couldn’t even catch a cold. So, there wasn’t really a point. “Hey,” Stiles said then straightening little again, “Mason, would you come here a sec?”

“Why?” He inquired scrunching up his face.

“Just come here.”

“No, you're going to punch me.”

“Sure, I will,” Stiles agreed with a smirk, “Better get it over with now. I can run faster than you.”

Mason inched behind his best friend again, who, after a second or contemplation, stepped out of the way. “What the hell, Liam?”

They fell into easy laughter. Even Theo’s lips curled into a grin. Stiles could feel them move at his shoulder. Quickly, he pressed a kiss to his cheek, the spark vibrating under his lips. Theo hugged him a little closer, squeezed him a little tighter, then picked him up in one swift movement. “Bridal style!” He exclaimed.

Stiles boxed his shoulder while Isaac, Mason and Liam were howling with laughter.

Fucking children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, neither Jackson nor Danny were in the first draft. Or the second for that matter. But they must've thought: Hey, Lydia and Kira are here and are going back to save the day. Let's just roll with it! We don't have anything better to do anyway. Get over it. 
> 
> I'm telling you, it's getting out of hand. 
> 
> And I just realised. This chapter alone has almost as many words as the other two chapters combined. What in the world???


End file.
